


The New Dragons

by FanficsbyVe



Category: Dark Souls (Video Games)
Genre: Babies, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-13 19:58:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11192343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanficsbyVe/pseuds/FanficsbyVe
Summary: The line of a Dark Lord begins with a strange heritage. Second request by MrWar1. FINISHED.





	1. The Discovery

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MrWar1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrWar1/gifts).



> My apologies for being away for so long. But real life called and this fic is being much harder to write than I thought. My apologies to MrWar1 for the meh quality, at least of this first chapter.

When Priscilla first entered the painting, she remembered the world as a dark and bleak place. Not surprising, truth be told, when she had spent most of her time there in the Duke’s Archives and later in the dungeons of Anor Londo. All these things made her hesitant to leave the Painted World of Ariamis, in which she had once taken refuge, and she once figured she would stay there for the rest of her life.

As such, looking upon the outside world now was nothing less than alien to her. She was looking on a world that still seemed dark, yet it was not the kind of terrifying, all-consuming dark she heard so many fearful whispers about. Rather, she felt like she looked upon a world in slumber, an existence that was going into stasis until a new dawn would rise once more. Even now, she wasn’t entirely used to it.

She had been living here in New Londo for several months now. She had moved here with the Chosen Undead at the request of the Primordial Serpents, who were eager to have their new Lord of Darkness in the former City of Man. After all, what better beacon of hope for the remnants of humanity than a city that once aspired to be like the Gods?

Even now, she had to get used to it. This city was her home now, but it was so different from the Painted World. And this new world of Dark was unlike anything she had ever known. 

The remnants of that Dark had been thoroughly present when they first arrived in the old ruins. It had been rife with Darkwraiths lurking about to look for victims, to feed themselves with the humanity they drained from them. The legacy of the corrupted Four Kings was still alive and if this place were to change into a prosperous kingdom, the old had to go.

Savage as the Darkwraiths were, they proved to be no fools. Word of their arrival had proceeded them and the wretched creatures had holed up behind the crumbling walls, ready to defend it to the death. They intended to go down fighting and a fight was exactly what she gave them. 

Contrary to what they may have thought, it was not just the Chosen Undead they had to contend with. A warrior who had defeated four powerful Lords and grown strong on their souls. A force to be reckoned with, but only one man and they had numbers on their side. What they never expected, however, was that she was a serious threat as well.

At the Battle of the Ruins, the land of Lordran first got a taste of her Lifehunt gift. As the Darkwraiths had come pouring out of every nook and cranny, they converged on her and thought her an easy target. An assumption that faded very quickly once she had raised her scythe and sliced the first of them in half. 

There had been a brief pause, but she hadn’t allowed them to recover. Knowing her lover could handle himself, she charged her adversaries fearlessly. She started to cut into every body all around her, tearing into the attacking force with abandon, determined not to leave a single one of them standing.

The Darkwraiths fought back with all their might. She still remembered feeling their claws trying to sink into her, the icy cold of their Dark Hand. How they tried to overwhelm her with sheer numbers, hungry for the soul of a crossbreed.

By the time the dust had settled, her white fur had been stained red. Yet she still stood, whereas mountains of corpses lay bleeding out all around her. Countless Darkwraiths lay decimated and those who eventually tried to flee in the onslaught had fared no better. They had fought fiercely, but in the end, she had proven victorious.

Even now, she remembered looking over her shoulder and her eyes meeting those of the Chosen Undead. He looked equally battered, but victorious and surrounded by the result of his own slayings. She will never forget the moment when he smiled at her, his expression full of excitement and pride, and the both burst out into triumphant laughter, barely able to believe that they had just conquered New Londo and the city was theirs. 

She smiled thinking back to it. How the city had changed since then. What were ones ruins, worn away by water and time, was now a bustling town under perpetual twilight, filled with humans who peacefully went about their business in order to rebuild civilization. Its strong walls held any outside threats at bay, its army harnessed the darkness against any foes. It was a small strip of paradise and at the heart of it were her and the Chosen Undead, lording over it all. A lost hero and a crossbreed, beloved rulers of the remnants of humanity.

Loved she was indeed. The Chosen Undead who had drawn her from this world had been more than simply kind to her. He was her lover and her companion and even if their relationship had started strangely, he loved her with every fiber of his being. He treated her like a queen, even if she wasn’t so in name, and he was not the only one.

Contrary to what the Gods had claimed, this new world order didn’t fear her or look down on her. If anything, both the Primordial Serpents that served her lover as their Dark Lord and the humans that flocked to the city revered her. They saw her as a remnant of the Old Gods and their grandeur, a worthy consort for a lord of a new age. They loved her and every day, Priscilla tried to be the best she could be for them.

New Londo was her new home. A place of refuge away from a rotted, painted world. She saw a responsibility to see to it that it would be well off in this new age. Yet as of late, she started to wonder if that was truly her task.

She was no true Queen of New Londo. She might have been on Anor Londo, as all of her family were gone. Yet here, she was only a lover of the Chosen Undead, held in high esteem. Yet part of her wondered whether she would have that kind of esteem forever…

After all, it wasn’t the first time she had been abandoned. Lady Gwynevere, her “mother”, had loved her, after all. She had even been willing to adopt her as her own, to make her a princess in her own right. Yet in the end, none had come of that and she had been exiled to the Painted World, to be forever hidden and never acknowledged. 

Sometimes she wondered if her current situation was so much different. The Chosen Undead loved her and treated her with utmost respect and devotion. He didn’t exactly keep her existence and her role in his life a secret either and it was known to all in New Londo that she was his companion. Yet she was not his wife and he hadn’t breached the subject of making their bond a matrimonial one. It might not have bothered her so much, were it not for the dilemma she’d been coping with for the last few weeks.

Sitting in her private chambers, the crossbreed examined the bandages used to cover her loins with a pale face. They were clean for the most part and while that would normally be a relief, now it caused her to tremble to her very core. Seeing what time of the month it was, the white fabric shouldn’t be clean…

Priscilla was not ignorant about how a woman’s body was supposed to work. Velka had taught her that much. And while her body was not a construct that naturally occurred in nature, it did go through the usual processes that humans and the Godrace experienced and had as she reached womanhood. At least, it had until now…

Her moonblood was two weeks overdue. That small fact alone concerned her more than anything else. Her cycles had always been very regular and while she hadn’t always been exactly on time, this was far too long to be normal.

There were other disconcerting signs too. She had been very tired of late, her ankles hurt and while she had once enjoyed dishes like meat and fish, she could now barely stand the smell of the kitchens when the chefs prepared them. What more, her previous calm demeanor seemed to shatter a lot of late, with her feeling sad or angry at the slightest whim. It concerned her deeply, especially since it was something she had never experienced before.

Had she still been inside the Painted World, she would have assumed it might have been a result of the strange nature of her surroundings. Yet she was no longer in Ariamis’s creation nor was she a maiden anymore. She had a lover now, one she shared a bed with almost every night. Which opened the way to another frightening possibility entirely…

Perhaps once, when she was a child, she would have liked having children of her own like a lot of girls did. Yet with age, she had slowly let go of that fantasy. After all, she had become aware that she wasn’t exactly normal and she wasn’t certain if a creature like her could even conceive. 

Yet what if she could and she was indeed with child? Would a crossbreed made from magic even be able to carry a child to term? Even if she could, what would the result of that be? 

She could feel cold sweat form on her skin at the mere thought of it. In her mind, she saw an impossibly small, lifeless baby. It was deformed, with cracked and dry dragon-like scales covering its body. It small leather wings, too small to support it, and inside it, maggots were crawling and eating away at the flesh.

The very thought of it was enough to bring her to tears. If her baby was indeed deformed or stillborn, she wasn’t sure if she could cope. The idea that her very body could only give death instead of life was a devastating thought. What more, what good was she to the Chosen Undead if she couldn’t give him an heir? If he even wanted her to give him an heir…

They had been together for a long time now, well over a year. Yet even now, their relationship had very much stayed the same. They slept together and acted like lovers, but while their subjects had often indicated their approval for her as a monarch, he’d made no move to make their relationship official. She tried to play that off as something that didn’t matter, but as the idea of a potentially doomed pregnancy started to grow more real, it was eating her up inside. 

Did he really love her? At least, enough that he would want her to be around until the end of their days? They acted like they were husband and wife, that much was true, but despite having to establish a kingdom, he’d never brought up establishing a dynasty. Would he even want to with her, if she might not even be able to bear any live children?

“Lady Priscilla?”

The sudden sound of a servant’s voice, nearly had her jump. She turned to her, trying her best to recover. She only barely managed to smile, wiping her face to check for any stray tears.

“Yes? Is it something urgent?”

The servant stared at her, only to shake her head. “Oh no, not at all. Our Lord simply requested you join him for dinner.”

The crossbreed could feel her stomach turn at those very words. Talk about the one thing she really wasn’t in the mood for. Still, she knew that refusing would likely not go over well and as such, she simply nodded. 

“Very well. Bring me there.”

The woman obliged and soon she found herself walking through familiar halls. Yet rather than banquet hall, she found herself being led to the shared chambers of her and her lover. She frowned at this, but said nothing. Her attendant opened the large door for her. Motioning her to step aside. She was a little surprised that the servant didn’t follow her, right up to the moment where she looked around the room.

The setting before here was like one from a fairytale. The light inside the room was dimmed, the only illumination being endless rows of candles giving off a soft glow. The mahogany table in the middle of their room was set with crisp white linen and silver cutlery and several plates of fresh, hot food. On the other side was her lover, smiling brightly upon seeing her.

“Ah, you made it. Wonderful.”

She didn’t miss the rather nervous tone in his voice and it instantly set her on edge as well. The setting seemed rather cozy, if anything and she couldn’t think of any reason for him to be jittery. Unless this was a pretext for something far more grave.

Even so, she managed to force out a chuckle. “What is all this?”

He grinned. “A little private dinner. We’ve both been very busy of late. I figured it would do us good to spend some time together.”

From what she heard, that statement seemed sincere and she was quietly relieved at that. Still, she couldn’t wonder if that was all he was planning on. Even now, she couldn’t get her worried mind to let it rest. 

Part of her knew that perhaps she should bring it up her potential pregnancy. If she was indeed expecting and it could have such severe consequences for her body, then maybe it was best if he knew about it as soon as possible. Besides, omission of the truth was pretty much the equivalent of lying. 

She had always hated lying. She wasn’t good at it and she despised doing it. There had already been too much dishonesty around her growing up. The last thing she wanted was to lie to a person she loved.

She knew this and yet, she found herself too afraid to even speak. Too afraid of what his reaction would be if she did. Too afraid that what he was going to say would be the things she couldn’t bear to hear. 

“Are you alright?”

It took her a few seconds to realize she had been staring off into space. She snapped out of it and stared at him. He looked worried and she tried her best to smile.

“It is nothing. I am simply a little fatigued.”

The frown that briefly crossed his face indicated he didn’t entirely believe her. Still, he didn’t press on, much to her relief. Instead, he gestured to the table.

“Well, hopefully not tired enough for a private dinner. Come, let’s enjoy ourselves away from prying eyes tonight.”

She nodded, almost weakly so, and made her way over to the table. She sat down at the larger chair, specifically designed to carry someone of her stature. The Chosen Undead proceeded to serve them their meals and she made the quiet decision to put her fears to the back of her head and simply enjoy herself.

That thankfully proved easily enough initially. The food was delicious and thankfully, her lover had several interesting tales to regale her with. She simply sat back, nibbling at her meal and relaxing as he spoke. By now, her fear started to die down and she felt content to simply sit here, enjoying his company.

By the time the main course was served, Priscilla had mostly forgotten about her earlier troubles. Instead, she was happily enjoying her drink, careful not to touch the wine, comfortably digesting the appetizers while laughing at a story about Frampt and his peculiar sleeping habits. The soft glow of the candles soothed her, as did the obvious happiness of the Chosen Undead just to be in her company.

Even now, she could see the way he looked at her, full of love and devotion. After all these years, she still cherished it. To be here, in a warm and loving home, instead of in a cold, Painted World with a man who truly loved her and wanted the best for her.

She would tell him, she decided there. She would tell him about her possible pregnancy, so they could decide what to do about it together. But not now. Not tonight. All she wanted for now was to enjoy the peace and closeness between them.

Yet it was at that moment, overwhelmed with warmth, that such loving feelings were quickly dashed and replaced by those of pure horror. 

She could already smell the fish when it came through the door. The strong odor caused a wave of nausea to wash over her. She reeled where she sat in her chair and even without a mirror, she could sense how she was going pale and beads of sweat started to form on her forehead.

She fought with all her might to hold it back. The last thing she wanted was to get sick here and now. With trembling fingers, she reached for a goblet of water, hoping a few sips would suppress her gagging reflex. Unfortunately, it did the exact opposite. 

Horror and misery stampeded right over the crossbreed as she could feel part of her meal coming back up. It was with a miserable moan that she unwillingly relieved herself of the remnants, the sour smell of bile invading her nostrils as she only just managed to turn and the contents landed on the floor. This process repeated itself a few more times, each one more horrid than the last.

By the time her stomach finally stopped heaving, she was dizzy and her head was hurting. There was a brief sense of relief, only for it to be shattered when she spotted her lover staring at her. The realization that he had just watched her retch all over herself was the drop that opened the floodgates and she found herself bursting into tears of embarrassment and frustration.

She had wanted so badly to have this. To have this little quiet moment between the two of them before she would give him the big news. Yet here she was, nauseous and reeking, and that little comfort was now run into the ground. What else could she do but cry?

“Priscilla, what’s wrong?”

She hadn’t even noticed that the Chosen Undead had gotten up and walked over to her. Instead, she limply hung over the side of the chair, afraid she might be sick again, barely even aware as he pressed a cloth against her face in an effort to clean her up. She quietly let him, listening as he droned on, worry evident in his voice.

“What’s the matter, my love? You just threw up. Are you sick? Do I need to get a healer?”

More words tumbled out of his mouth, but Priscilla no longer heard them. Right now, all she was aware of was her own awful state and the obligation to explain herself that she could no longer avoid. It hurt more than anything she could imagine and still, she found herself croaking out the words.

“I might be pregnant...”

She could feel how the Chosen Undead stiffened and stared at her, eyes wide. Not a word came past his lips, plunging the room into an uncomfortable silence. Every second it lasted unnerved her more, only for her anxiety to come to a head when he spoke again. 

“You’re pregnant?”

She simply nodded, growing sick again as she did so. She simply hung her head, trying her best to gain a hold of herself again. It was only when she did that she deigned to looked at her lover again, only to find herself surprised.

Her lover didn’t look shocked or annoyed. He didn’t seem horrified or angry or feeling any other negative emotion that she might have expected. If anything, he looked excited.

“That…that is wonderful news! When did you find out?”

In any other case, his happiness might have been infectious. Now, however, it only made her feel worse. Before, she was afraid to tell him there even was a baby. How was she supposed to tell him that she feared something might be wrong with it?

She only barely brought out the answer and when she did, his smile was suddenly gone and he frowned at her. “A few days already? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

It was that question, so innocently asked, that once again reduced her to tears. She sobbed, loudly and agonizingly, not even caring it seemed to only confuse him. Priscilla simply let him wait for a while, determined to get out all of it, before even attempting to say what she had to. When she finally did, it was no easier.

“You do not get it, my love… I am a crossbreed… A being like me was not supposed to exist… _This baby_ is not supposed to exist. What if it is stillborn? Or sickly? Or deformed? What if I cannot give you any live, proper heirs at all?”

Instantly, she could see her lover’s face fall. The look on his face was one of pure disbelief, followed by sorrow. Then, gradually, his expression turned soft and loving and he stood on his toes to kiss her forehead.

“Oh Priscilla, you really think I would discard you if we couldn’t have any children?”

His voice was filled with such warmth and affection that it immediately stilled all of her tears. She looked at him, her grief temporarily forgotten. She blinked, tensely, still not certain whether she truly believed what she had just heard.

He…didn’t care if they might remain childless? And was excited about a potential pregnancy all the same? Had she been worried for nothing. Carried these feelings of fear and uncertainty for nothing? All of it felt overwhelming and she had a hard time gaining control of herself again. 

The Chosen Undead noticed and gently wiped away her stray tears, giving her some water to wash away the bad taste in her mouth. “Hey, don’t cry… It will be alright. How about we call in a healer tomorrow? He can examine you and see if the baby is in good health. If not, we’ll deal with it. Together.”

He spoke so gently, so calmly and so casually that the crossbreed could no longer find it in her to doubt him. Besides, what he said made sense. She could simply go to a healer to check on the baby and see if it were healthy. And if not…there were other ways to deal with it. And even if the outcome was horrible, it was clear she wouldn’t have to face it alone. 

For a moment, she felt foolish. Foolish that she had ever doubted the Chosen Undead’s devotion to her. Here he was, once again there for her, once again treating her as nothing less than a beloved companion and his lover. Clearly, his feelings for her hadn’t changed. Clearly, he still loved her…

“Well, we quite made a botch of the night...”

There was a certain apprehension to his tone again, one that surprised her. Why, she wondered? What was still left to be said? She looked him in the eye and he chuckled awkwardly. 

“I had arranged this evening because I wanted to ask you something… Though perhaps seeing the circumstances, perhaps I should anyway…”

With those words, he reached for something in his pocket. A relatively small item that was red and squire. Instantly, her eyes widened.

It couldn’t be… It had not truly been his intent to… Yet just as she was about to convince herself of that, he opened the small box and pulled from it an item that had her catch her breath.

The ring was a sight to behold. Forged out of white titanite and set with beautiful crystals that reminded her of snowflakes, it was a marvel of craftmanship and beauty. It shimmered when it caught the slightest bit of light and it took her several moments to realize it was made to fit her hand. She tried to speak, but he was quicker, nervous but smiling.

“Lady Priscilla, daughter of the Gods of Anor Londo and mistress of the Painted World… Would you give me your hand in marriage?”

This time, Priscilla didn’t answer. At least not with words. What point was there? 

After the events that had taken place here tonight, her feelings on this matter were clearer than ever. Her feelings for him were clearer than ever. She didn’t need words. All she needed was a simple gesture.

He smiled when she leaned forward and kissed him. He pulled her close, this man small of stature but great of deeds, only happy to see his proposal accepted. Only happy to see her become his wife, as well as his lover and, perhaps, the mother of his child.

They stayed like this for a while, the world all around them forgotten. Even so, it felt far too soon when he finally pulled back. Still, he remained close, running his fingers through her white hair as he gave her an offer she couldn’t refuse. 

“Come, let’s clean up the mess and then enjoy our evening together. And let’s get you something to eat that doesn’t make you sick upon smelling it.”

Priscilla readily agreed and it was barely half an hour later that she was snugly in her chair again, with a fresh change of clothes and munching on a pastry coffyn with crab meat that caused no ill effects. There was no illness this time and her previously dour mood had been replaced by one of cheer and happy conversation.

It was only hours later that the two of them finally retired to bed and as they lay there, their naked bodies curled against each other under the soft blankets, she truly felt at peace. How could she not? What had started out as a dreadful evening was turning into a blissful event full of promise.

Of course, she still had doubts. She still wasn’t certain this baby would live. Or that it would be healthy. Still, whatever the outcome, she now knew she wouldn’t have to cope with this uncertain time alone.

Even so, she noticed that there was an odd sense of peace about her. A calmness that she hadn’t felt since she discovered her potential pregnancy. A strange kind of reassurance, one that enabled her to fall asleep and dream sweetly. 

Perhaps, this might work out after all.


	2. The New Blood of Anor Londo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The birth of the first heir of New Londo.

What was it like to be the first and last of one’s kind?

That was a question Queen Priscilla of New Londo contemplated every single day. She was the last of the dragons, after all, the last known remaining trace of their blood with the death of her “father” Seath. Yet in her current situation, carrying the heir of the Dark Lord under her heart, the dragon blood would persist at least one generation longer. 

Initially, she hadn’t been so sure of that. Even when the healer had put her hands on her belly and confirmed that there was indeed a living baby in there, she still refused to believe it actually had a chance of survival. After all, how could a babe born from her exist if she herself should not?

This had fueled her decision not to announce the pregnancy immediately, except to those closest to her and her husband in court. After all, if the pregnancy had so much chance to fail, she’d rather not have it be public knowledge. As such, she figured that she would only tell the good people of New Londo when her stomach would swell and there was no way to keep it a secret.

The healer, however, had been confident. Employing her healing magic, she assured her that the unborn was strong and seemed to be growing the way it should. She provided her with a list of healthy foods and medication, advising her to strictly adhere to it in order for the pregnancy to be successful.

The crossbreed was only happy to adhere to the advice. After all, she wanted nothing more than for this child to come into the world alive and healthy. If a handful of beans and lentils and a helping of lean meat would increase that chance, she’d take it.

The first few months of her pregnancy, however, proved rather uneventful. She was a little more hungry and a little more tired. A little sick in the mornings but it would subside during the day. The smell of fresh meat and fish was nauseating, however, and for that first trimester, her main dishes consisted of fruit, potatoes, vegetables and crustaceans, the smell of which was less pungent and easier to stomach.

Even so, the early days left her with plenty of time and energy to focus on other things as well. She was more than simply an expectant mother, after all. She was the Queen of New Londo and like any good queen, she had responsibilities, both to her husband and her people.

In that regard, the Chosen Undead had been an excellent spouse. When Kaathe and Frampt directed them to New Londo, he’d known that ruling a city amidst a changing world would be a difficult task where ignorance couldn’t be afforded. As such, he’d taken it upon himself to educate her on every little nuance of politics, geography and management.

Eager to survive outside of the Painted World, Priscilla had proven a quick student. She threw herself into the lessons, familiarizing herself with her lover’s new kingdom, also _her_ kingdom now that she was Queen. She was particularly interested in the inner workings as well as the resources needed to keep a realm running and it wasn’t long before she had taken a direct interest in both food production and commerce.

In those early months of the pregnancy, she had still spent much of her time outside the home. She oversaw the conversion of nearby lands to make it suitable for agriculture. She had a hand in architects building numerous grain storages. She helped draw up plans for irrigation, set down laws for fishing, hunting and animal husbandry and had advisers search their borders for materials that were suitable to build long-term industries around.

Her efforts greatly pleased the people of New Londo. While they might have initially frowned at their ruler having a crossbreed for a queen or her close involvement, her talent for management and interest in creating stability quickly won them over. Soon, she had nearly every great mind still alive at her beck and call and with it, she helped transform the land and its people.

It showed as well. There wasn’t a place in her kingdom were she could go without receiving a true royal welcome. People were always eager to make her at home, to show her around, to display all the projects she helped fund and ask for advice from her and her entourage as how to proceed on certain works and industries. They were immensely thankful for her contributions to creating a stable home for humankind and were happy to share the wealth it had brought them with their benefactor.

Truth be told, these visits, even if they were for business, never ceased to please Priscilla. After a lifetime of being told that she would be feared and hated simply for what she was, the way these humans treated her made her feel like a burden had slipped off her shoulders. She was loved by them and it heartened her that this was the world her child would come into. 

Its growth in her belly was gradual. Those first few months, she barely even noticed it was there, save for the symptoms such as the morning sickness. In fact, she sometimes barely even believed she was pregnant at all.

The first physical signs only came around her fourth month. Her stomach started to round out ever so slightly and her body started to adapt to accommodate the little life inside of her. Her sickness and strong sense of smell slowly disappeared and while she was relieved these uncomfortable symptoms left, they were quickly replaced by others.

The most peculiar one was her craving for sour things. She had never disliked that kind of food in the past, but now she couldn’t live without it. She found herself needing it at the strangest times of the day, sometimes even waking up in the middle of the night to find her way to the kitchens. There were even a few incidents where she would be near the pantry in her nightgown, sating her hunger, only to suddenly find her husband snickering in the doorway, having found the bed empty and coming to find her.

Still, the Chosen Undead never quite minded her strange quirks. He was kind and patient with her, the way he always was. He helped her out where he could, going out of his way to make her comfortable. And while she was initially a little embarrassed that she felt even more amorous than usual during this period, he certainly didn’t seem to be bothered. It was something she deeply appreciated, especially during this scary and uncertain time.

There were definitely moments where she was afraid. Once she had made it past the initial stage of the pregnancy and it was beginning to show, her worries about the baby increased in tenfold. The reality of its presence started to truly sink in and with it, the fear of losing it became ever more real. 

She would never forget the first time she felt it kicking. It had been during a state visit to Thorolund, to meet the ruling family. During a small lunch, her speech about the importance of a self-sufficient populace had been interrupted by an inner thump, so sudden and so hard that it had startled her. It had caused her to spill her glass of sage water all over the table and drew surprised looks from both her hosts and her husband, forcing her to explain herself. It was in this way that the Thorolund family became the first outside the court to know about the Queen of New Londo’s pregnancy and what should’ve been a simple visit turned into a celebratory feast. 

For those next few months, Priscilla became immensely fascinated by the ability to feel her baby move. She tracked its occurrences almost religiously, worried when she didn’t feel it for long periods of time. Once, she didn’t feel the child for three whole days and she was just about to break down and rush to a healer when the sudden stress had it make its presence known once more, causing her to laugh and cry all at the same time.

Even now, she was terribly afraid she would lose the child. That at some point, the pregnancy would terminate, just as she was basking in happiness and a false sense of security. With every day that went by, she grew more attached to the little life inside her. Were it to be suddenly ripped from her, she wasn’t certain that she could take it.

Yet as time moved on, it gradually became clear that the baby wouldn’t die. In fact, every day it seemed to get a little longer as it grew, its existence becoming more pronounced. Every visit to the healer confirmed it developed exactly as it should and as she entered the last months of her pregnancy, she finally dared let go of her worst fears. 

Indeed, the last trimester proved by far the hardest. Both physically and mentally for her and for her husband. By now, her pregnant state could no longer be hidden and while there was an outpour of best wishes and congratulations from her subjects, Priscilla truly felt it was taking its toll. 

The weight in her belly was growing heavy and she found she had a hard time moving around. Her normally large, confident strides were reduced to a waddle. She felt tired and out of breath and there were days where she wanted to do nothing more than sleep and eat. Her entire body was hurting from the strain of carrying an ever growing infant and every day, the desire for it to leave her body was increasing.

Even so, her thoughts regularly wandered about just how it would come out. Whether it would be healthy. How it would look. Whether it would look more human or dragon or perhaps a monstrous mix of both. Those thoughts still kept her up at night and she couldn’t bear the idea that she might have carried a baby for nine months only for it to lead a pained, miserable existence.

Yet at the same time, she also knew there was nothing she could do. Even if something was indeed wrong with the child, it was out of her hands. The baby was coming and she would have to simply find out. 

It was the thought with which Priscilla had gone to bed once again tonight. Today had been a rather trying day. She was tired, her heavy belly and swollen feet having taken its toll on her. What more, she had been having stomach cramps all day, so painful that she could barely bring herself to eat or do much at all. What more, the baby had been kicking all day, constantly knocking the wind out of her and turning her into a miserable grumpy mess that simply wanted to sleep until she felt better.

Unfortunately, sleep failed to grand her the release she wanted. Her rest was a fitful one, accompanied by constant tossing and turning. Strange dreams took over her mind, ones in which she fought battles against a variety of monsters. Ones she conquered, but still ones that managed to wound her deeply.

So deeply that the pain and blood almost felt real.

It was another jolt that shook her wide awake. She sat up with a start, hands going to her belly. She grit her teeth as a wave of pain washed over her and it was in that very moment that she became aware of an unpleasant, sticky sensation between her legs. She pulled back the covers and her eyes widened. 

“My love? My love, wake up!”

The Chosen Undead stirred awake with a sleepy groan. “P-Priscilla? What is it? Had a bad dream?”

She let out a hiss as her stomach started cramping again. “It is the baby! It is coming!”

That was all it took for her lover to become fully awake. He practically leaped from the bed, slipping into his dressing gown at breakneck speed. He raced up to her, briefly checking her over before kissing her one the forehead.

“I am calling for the midwife. Please, hang in there!”

With those words, he called for a servant and the crossbreed found herself choking back a sob. She knew help was coming. They had brought the midwife into the castle well in advance and she was sleeping right down the hall. Still, experiencing the kind of agony she was in, any moment she had to spend alone was sheer horror to her.

Never in her life had she felt pain the way she did now. It raced through her way, from her belly to her chest, legs, hips and spine. It came and went in waves, each more intense than the last one, and she gritted her teeth as she felt how something forced its way through her womb and towards her womanhood.

Thankfully, her husband had no intention of leaving her. He instantly got beside her on the bed and simply held her close. She felt how he ran his fingers through her sweaty hair, speaking to her gently.

“Try to breathe, Priscilla. In and out. Slowly. That’s it.” 

Not knowing what else to do, she tried her best to follow his advice. It alleviated the pain somewhat, but it did little to shake the worries she felt. Nothing could have prepared her for this moment and she fought back her fears as she turned to him.

“Will it be alright, my love? Will our child be alright?”

She saw how her husband forced a smile. “Of course it will be, love. Just hold on. It won’t be long… The midwife will know what to do.”

For all his reassuring words, she could hear the nervousness in his voice. He too was worried about the state their baby would be in. Still, he was trying to be strong, for her, and she quietly appreciated that fact.

He was right about the midwife. It was only mere minutes later that the middle-aged woman came striding into the room, pushing aside the servant to make her way over to the bed. She threw a smile at her, preparing to examine her.

“It looks like it is time, Your Majesty.”

In her pained state, Priscilla simply nodded. “Yes… It hurts… It hurts so much… Please, get it out…”

The older woman smiled. “Patience, Your Grace. Most times, the first birth takes a while. It might even take hours. So save your strength and I’ll help you through it.”

For perhaps the very first time in her life, the crossbreed had to suppress the urge to swear. Right now, she felt like she was being ripped apart, as if an alien force was violently tearing its way out of her body. She wasn’t sure she could actually weather that kind of anguish for several more hours. She turned to the woman, biting back grunts.

“I do not think it will take that long…”

This made the midwife frown and immediately, she pulled back the blankets even further and moved around the bed to have a look. Even from where she lay, she could see how the woman froze and her eyes became the size of saucers. She then looked at her, with an expression showing astonishment and amusement. 

“By the Gods! There’s the top of the head already! This baby is in a rush!”

She might have found it funny, but Priscilla didn’t quite share the sentiment. She could feel an immense urge to expulse the child inside her and she had no idea what exactly to do. All she could do was take in deep breaths as the midwife splayed out her stuff and turned to her husband.

“Your Majesty, you might want to step out. A baby coming into the world is not the prettiest thing to watch, even for battle hardened men.”

The Chosen Undead looked at her in shock, only to glare. “No, I’m staying. If I can face a situation where life is taken, then what kind of man would I be if I cannot stand one where life is given? Don’t press the issue. Just help my wife.”

The stern edge to his voice was enough to cow the woman into submission. Instead of insisting further, she focused all her attention on Priscilla. She took out a cloth to wipe some of the sweat from her forehead and smiled.

“Alright, your Grace. Your little one is clearly eager to meet you. Now I want you to take a deep breath and push when I tell you to, then repeat it until the baby is out. Do you understand?”

Already feeling the overwhelming urge to force the child out of her body, she nodded. At almost the same time, she felt how her lover’s hands suddenly clasped around hers and she looked at him. He gave her a reassuring smile, pressing his lips to the skin of her fingers.

“You can do this, my love. Now, let’s bring our child into this world, shall we?”

His words, with so much love and reassurance, were enough for her to still for a moment. Even if it did nothing to ease her worry or lessen the pain she was in, it meant the world to her. The fact that the man she loved, the father of her child, was here with her and supporting her through it was all she needed. 

She clutched his hands tightly, seeking his support and nearness. Once assured of that, she turned her attention back to the midwife. She had made her way onto the bed, seated between her legs, motioning the servants to come closer and help attend to their mistress. She looked back at her, a sense of urgency in her eyes.

“Push, your Highness!”

Sucking in a deep breath, Priscilla immediately did what was asked of her. Almost right away, she could feel the baby in her shift an inch. It hurt, but it also brought relief just a little bit closer.

The midwife smiled. “Perfect! Now do it again! Push!”

Again, she obeyed and the baby moved a little. She took a deep breath and kept repeating the desired action. Time and time again, no matter how little progress it made.

The next ten minutes became a blur as she continued to breathe in and push, over and over again, fighting not to scream from pain as to conserve her energy. By now, she was drenched in sweat and she could smell the blood and excrement as they stained the sheets, her body ridding itself of everything in order to birth this baby.

Every new wave of contractions had her clutch her husband’s hand even tighter. She was certain that it had to hurt him, but even if it did, he didn’t once voice any discomfort. Instead, he simply held her the best he could, talking to her gently, encouraging her and cheering her on as she struggled through this trial.

Even if she had not been in such dire straits, the crossbreed felt she couldn’t possibly put her gratitude for that into words. For the fact that her lover was here with her, instead of getting drunk or hunting as most men were wont to do during a birth. That he stayed here with her, to help her through this, regardless of how bloody and horrifying he looked. He was here with her because he loved her and he wanted to witness the birth of this little miracle they created. It filled her with overwhelming affection and she wanted nothing more than to see it through with him.

It was then, after the minutes felt like hours, that a particularly insidious contraction wracked her body. This time, she did scream, but she forced herself to give it her all as she once again pushed. This time, she could feel the mass pass all the way through, but the agony this caused was quickly soothed by the most immense sense of relief she had ever felt. 

Instantly, she slumped back against the blankets, panting and gasping. She could only faintly feel something else coming out of her, the afterbirth she guessed, but she was far more interested in the Chosen Undead wiping the sweat from her brow and offering her a sip of water. She happily accepted it, looking up at him with worried eyes, too tired to speak.

He didn’t speak either and for the longest time, the two of them just stared in silence, processing what had happened. She had just given birth, easily the most physically demanding task she had endured in her life. Yet now, a more pressing question remained.

Was their baby alive? Had it come into this world a stillborn, having died before or after the birth? Even if it hadn’t, was it well?

Yet it was there, in that brief moment of anxiety, that a sound suddenly pierced the atmosphere. The loud, harsh squalling of a newborn, reverberating across the walls of their home, strong and piercing as to alert every living being in the vicinity of its presence. It was one of the most intense sounds Priscilla had ever heard, but right now, also one of the most beautiful.

It was at that very moment that she heard the midwife’s voice, laughing with happiness. “Congratulations, my esteemed King and Queen. It is a little girl!”

In her tired state, it took her several moments to register that word, but rather than delight her, only one question was on her mind. “Is she…healthy?”

Within mere moments, the older woman appeared within her view, smiling as she carried a small, squirming bundle in her arms. “Yes, she is. A beautiful, full-term baby, all alert and with a good set of lungs. Her father’s daughter though she clearly takes after you too!”

Priscilla took the bundle from her wordlessly, holding her breath as she looked upon her daughter for the first time. She exchanged a quick look with her husband, smiling wearily as he put a hand on her shoulder. It gave her the final scrap of courage she needed to pull away the blanket and when she did, her breath got caught in her throat.

Staring back at her were two beautiful blue eyes, with slit pupils like her own, framed by a head of dark brown hair much like her husband’s. The baby was closer to a human’s size, but clearly full-term with a healthy pink tinge to her skin. She had ten fingers and ten toes, a nose and two ears as well as a normal mouth, but on several parts of her body, she could make out a mosaic of shiny white scales.

It was then and there that the crossbreed felt tears welling up in her eyes, yet it were not any tears of sadness. If anything, she felt joy and relief impossible to describe in the human language. And when her baby looked back at her, stopping her bawling to regard her with curiosity, she no longer bothered to keep herself from crying as she looked at the Chosen Undead. 

“She’s normal, my love. She’s healthy.”

Her husband smiled at her, reaching out to caress his daughter’s head. “She is. She’s beautiful. You did wonderfully, Priscilla.”

That was a statement she couldn’t agree more with. She leaned in to kiss him, then held her little daughter close. The baby made pleased noises at the contact, clearly snug and comfortable being so close to her parents. She gurgled excitedly as her father tickled her under her chin, making him laugh.

“At least we already know what to name her.”

Priscilla nodded at that. Indeed, she and her husband had thought long and hard on what to call their offspring, be it a boy or girl. Much debate and suggestion had gone into it, sometimes into the wee hours of the morning, but in the end, they had decided that only one name was appropriate. 

A tribute to the place that had once provided her a home, long before this one.

“Ariama. Her name will be Ariama.”

Her husband’s smile showed he more than agreed with her choice. She didn’t protest when he asked if he could take the baby from her and she watched in delight how he held his little daughter, whispering words of love and encouragement. The image was a beautiful one and for the first time in nine months, she truly dared to be excited for the future.

She was Queen Priscilla of New Londo, daughter of the Gods, wife to the Undead King. She was the one that ruled the realm beside him and now, she had given him his heir. That which should not exist somehow existed and she and her husband had managed to create something new and beautiful, something that was possible despite the odds.

Little did the baby in her husband’s arms know it, but a grand future lay ahead of her. She would grow up with loving parents, who would raise her with devotion and knowledge. She would get to know these lands in which they lived, learn to understand its people and in time, learn all about the politics of this strange new age. She would be heir to a nation this world had never seen before and when they were too old to rule, she would take their place.

No, the little beautiful little girl she had birthed was not some abomination. She was a product of love, a unification of bloodlines. She was a future that none could have foreseen and one that would change everything. 

She would be Queen Ariama, born of Gods, Men and Dragons, and she would rule over a realm of Dark in a world where Flame had faded.


	3. Epilogue: Painted World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The legacy of the bloodline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you don't mind my tinfoil hat epilogue, MrWar1. :)

“…But first, I must see flame. I wish to paint a picture. Of a cold, dark and gentle place. One day, it will make someone a goodly home. That’s why I must see flame.”

Somewhere deep within the Painted World of Ariandel, a girl painted. Alone in the attic of an abandoned Cathedral, in a world surrounded by rot and death. In a world so hostile to her very existence that she was kept under lock and key by those who should have served her.

It mattered not to her. This was her world. Her home. Not the playground of that farce of an Unkindled holy woman that calls herself Sister Friede. She only deludes herself, forgotten what she was and should be. The Painter, however, had not, even if she now no longer truly has a name or place in the world.

Once, her name was Aria. Once, the dragon blood in her veins meant something. Once, she would have even been considered a Princess. 

She could trace her lineage all the way back to the Gods. To Queen Priscilla of New Londo and the Undead King, to the first true Kingdom of Men after the Flame faded the first time. It was mostly a forgotten bloodline now, but as Friede’s fear of her proved, not without meaning.

Generations of women like her had come before. All daughters and while they took more after their human fathers with each subsequent generation, the dragon blood stayed strong in the presence of white scales on their bodies. All of them women whose name was somehow derived from the first Painter and all of them intrinsically connected to the Painted World.

It had been several generations now that her line had returned to this world for unwanted things. New Londo became Londor and in time, the constant fading and ignition of the Flame took its toll even there. Eventually, the monarchs who came after the great king and queen lost their taste for ruling and left it in the hands on a clergy, the Sable Church. Instead, they followed a calling, a calling back to a strange home, the one their foremother had once originated from. A world that had succumbed to rot and desperately need to be restored, even if it had to be done from the ground up.

It was what those of Priscilla’s bloodline had done for a long time now. Going off the knowledge the old Queen of New Londo has provided them, they looked after the Painting as its mistresses. It was them who made it a cold but save haven in the everlasting storm of the First Flame and burned away the old when it became time for the new. It is a task she intended to fulfill as well.

She didn’t fear the imposter Ariandel and the usurper Friede. She too knew the prophecy, the imminent promise that the Painting would know fire once more. Eventually, her control would be wrested from her and she would once again assume control, watching over the broken things of this world like her mother, grandmother and all the crossbreeds before her had done.

As such, she simply sat in her attic, calmly and quietly contemplating the empty canvas. As her beloved uncle Gael, an Undead soldier and servant of her late parents, tried to find her a soul to fulfill the promise, she thought on what kind of world she could make. One where he and others would truly feel at home.

Her wait was a long, but patient one. After all, her blood carried within it the warning that so few in the outside world heeded. A message of renewal that had become lost to many except those who listened to the descendants of Gods. She remembered the credo told to her, all the way to the words Priscilla once spoke to her daughter Ariama and even now, she lived by them. 

"Those who aren't ken to fire cannot paint a world. Those absorbed by fire, must not paint a world. Don't worry, I haven't forgotten, Mother...”


End file.
